everything was so much obvious with the eyes shut,
on the back seat
leaning to my casquet
"you're in the army now... stand up and fight"
ban me mister Pruteanu
"for whatever that means".

even if tonight the fall has come
and the virgins locked themselves
in the consciousness of a depressive present
you, my princess, are to blame
for my rainy nights
for the wind scattering
the fairies in my dreams and
maybe you can give up words and red ink
maybe just today
you could sharpen your claws
on someone else's soul
and because I asked you to leave before dawn
now i will never know your first name;
you all can make a profit
from my monotonous calm
to kidnap my poetry-thoughts just for you
here is the proof i can still hurt the paper
if I search deep inside myself,
the memory of the one that's counting crows
a requirement "without qua niet" of the inspiration that's hanging high above
between the last negative floors
built among thought of you and sea level.
the cover of the record with "you two" forces me to stop
and the black fog that I've told you about a thousand years before, my shadow